


The Terms and Conditions

by Laylah



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Decisions, Bad Ending, Castration, Demon Sex, Genital Torture, Guro Elements, Humiliation, M/M, Other, Oviposition, Raped by Monsters, Sounding, Spiders, Urethral Stretching, Watersports, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 00:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: Drew should have paid more attention to what, exactly, he was agreeing to. He's going to have plenty of time to regret his carelessness.





	The Terms and Conditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paleale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleale/gifts).



It's late. If Drew's parents were home, his mom would be fussing at him by now to go to bed so he doesn't "ruin his sleep schedule," even though it's the weekend and it's _fine_. But they're not home, because of some party for dad's firm, blah blah somebody making partner, all the big shots have to show up and congratulate each other and probably drink enough that they'll need to get an Uber home if they don't just get a hotel downtown again.

Nobody Drew really knows is online but whatever, he can keep himself entertained just fine. He was on the site where he gets most of his game mods earlier, and following random links out of boredom has landed him now on some kind of game-swapping board he's never heard of before. It's... actual modders and indie devs sharing their stuff, if he's reading it right? Sharing their really hardcore stuff, things the cowards at Valve would never let anyone put on Steam. There are loads of disclaimers about how this content is intended only for adults, but they didn't even make him lie about his birthday to get onto the site, so Drew figures nobody here buys that shit. They're just doing bare minimum CYA stuff.

The game he keeps coming back to is by a guy called Surgat616. It's a fighting game, right, and the screen shots in the thread make Drew feel kind of squirmy and hot. All the opponents you fight in the game are hot girls, mostly with their tits falling out, and if you beat them with a good enough finishing combo you get to fuck them afterward. The full game, Surgat616 promises, is "loads more explicit" than the pictures he's posted. The next build is supposed to let you customize the girls to look exactly how you want them.

Drew's clicking the download link before he's even really thought about it. There's a link beside it asking for donations but he doesn't have a Paypal and even if he did he wouldn't have money to give away to some jackass who thinks he should do it on the _honor system_.

The download's faster than he would have expected from some rando server connected to basically nothing. It almost seems like there can't be a full game in that .zip, but it extracts fine and puts an icon on his desktop that looks like some kind of generic error symbol. He clicks it.

It pops up a fucking _licensing agreement_ as if it's a triple-A game instead of spankbait freeware. The "Agree" button is grayed out, waiting for him to read through the whole thing. "You're fucking kidding me," Drew tells it, but he starts scrolling down. Blah blah, who cares. The User agrees, the Service shall be defined as, all the generic stuff. Dad's said more than once that these things are so broad they're not even enforceable.

Wow, this one especially. Like two thirds of the way down it stops even being in English, turning into these squiggly characters like you'd see in the cursed spellbook in a third-rate horror movie. _Your copy-and-paste got fucked up here, Surgat616._

Finally he gets to the end of the whole pointless thing and the "Agree" button lights up. Drew clicks it.

The screen goes black and then words fade in, shimmery red with impressively high resolution: _Thank you, summoner_.

Drew rolls his eyes. Has this whole thing just been a troll? "Not impressed," he says.

"I'm crushed," says a smooth, low voice from behind him. "Let's see if I can change your mind."

Drew bolts up out of his chair and spins around, trying to think what's nearby that he could use as a weapon. There's a strange man in his room, looming between him and the door and looking like something out of a cheap horror movie himself, too tall and oily black all over with fake-looking wings behind him. "Who the fuck are you?"

The creep laughs. "You ran my program, summoner—can't you guess my name?"

"Bullshit." Drew grabs his phone off the desk and swipes the unlock pattern. "You're breaking and entering, and you're a creep, and I'm calling the cops."

The guy snaps his fingers and Drew's phone catches fire in his hand.

"Holy _fuck_!" Drew drops his phone and stomps on it as the fire singes the carpet, frantically trying to put the fire out before it can really catch. "How—"

Air shifts and Drew's back hits the wall, the guy's hand wrapped around his throat. "Really, boy, how do you think?" His wings flex and stretch behind him, like maybe they're real after all.

Drew claws at that too-broad bony hand, trying to get enough air to breathe. "This isn't possible."

"Don't be tiresome," the guy—the demon—says. "You took the bait I left on that forum. You agreed to the terms and conditions. You summoned me." He smiles, gleaming sharp teeth. "Now we play the game."

"No," Drew gasps, kicking uselessly at the demon's immovable form. "No, fuck you, you can't—I banish you, I banish you back to the pit you came from."

"Better!" The demon's awful grin goes nowhere. "But I'm afraid you waived that right in our contract. The modern era has such _thrilling_ potential for beings of my persuasion."

He flings his free hand out in a big theatrical gesture and the door to Drew's closet bangs open. In the middle of the piles of junk crammed in there is a spot that glows sickly red, pulsing in an unsteady rhythm. That shouldn't be there. There's a sinking feeling in Drew's gut that things are going really, really wrong.

"You _are_ a jaded little fuck, aren't you?" the demon says. "You should last for a nice long time."

That sounds creepy as hell. Drew tries struggling again and it still doesn't help. The demon, and Drew is starting to think of him as Surgat after all that stuff about the forum and the game—Surgat turns toward the open door and says something in this terrible, inhuman voice like a buzz saw trying to sing church music.

Something spills out of the glowing spot and oozes across the floor, glistening in the light of the monitor, a puddle of dark living slime. Drew wishes he could wake up. The slime makes a bubbling, questioning noise.

"Just us for now, it seems," Surgat says, maybe to both of them, maybe just to the slime thing. "But that's enough to get started." He leans down and _kisses_ Drew's mouth, gross, his tongue pushing hot and slimy past Drew's lips and nobody ever said kissing would feel like this, nasty and invasive. Drew bites down as hard as he can but Surgat just laughs into his mouth and then something stings his tongue, sharp and then hot-numb like the novocaine when the dentist had to pull his one stubborn baby tooth that wouldn't fall out by itself.

But then instead of making his mouth go numb, this makes his body go flushed and warm all over and makes his dick start getting hard. He squirms, and Surgat lets him get away from the kiss, and the first thing he does is try to spit out the smoky taste it left behind. He's drooling. He's tenting out the front of his pants. "What the fuck did you do to me?"

"Only what you agreed to, boy," Surgat purrs. He lets go of Drew's throat and grabs his shirt front instead. "Don't tell me you didn't bother to read the terms thoroughly." The mocking tone makes Drew just want to hit him, but it wouldn't do any good, would it? He hasn't been able to do anything to the demon so far.

Surgat tosses him over the arm of his computer chair, face down, and when he tries to push himself back up the slime surges up and engulfs his hands. It's hot and sticky and weirdly strong, and he can't get the leverage to pull free.

While he's still fighting with the slime, Surgat grabs the back of his jeans and just _pulls_ , tearing them right open down the seam. "No," Drew gasps as the demon shreds his boxers and cool air washes over his too-hot skin, "no, don't."

"Say that again for me," Surgat coaxes. Drew looks back over his shoulder and immediately wishes he hadn't: before the demon's body was all smooth slick black, but now he's gotten his dick out, hard and glistening red in the low light, the head alone as big as Drew's fist. Drew's own dick throbs as he stares at it in horror.

"Don't," he says again, but not because Surgat wants him to. He tries to kick out behind him and discovers that the slime has reached under the chair to weigh down his ankles, too.

Surgat chuckles, palming Drew's ass with both hands and spreading it open. It's gross and weird being looked at like this and Drew really wishes his boner would go away. Surgat spits, and it lands in the crack of Drew's ass, trickling down wet and awful while he tries not to react. When it gets to his asshole the skin tingles and gets hotter and his dick pulses again even though he really doesn't want any of this to be happening. 

The slick blunt heat pressing against his hole is demon cock. Drew shakes his head _no_ , eyes squeezed shut, biting his lip so he won't make any embarrassing noises when it happens. 

Surgat pushes. It stings, burns, feels like he's splitting open as the demon's dick shoves its way into him. It hurts in an awful, should-be-private way and he can't get away and he's _still hard_.

"Oh, that's good," Surgat says. "There's nothing quite like splitting open a virgin hole."

Drew doesn't mean to, but he whimpers. He feels bloated, too full, like there isn't enough room inside him for his organs and the thick hard shaft of Surgat's dick at the same time. His asshole burns, stretched out too far, so he can feel his heartbeat in his spread-wide rim. 

Surgat takes him by the hips and starts drilling him for real, fast and hard so it forces gasps and grunts out of him. It always seemed so fake when girls did that in porn but he can't make himself stop, any more than he can make his dick stop being hard. Every few strokes Surgat's dick hits this sensitive spot in his ass that's almost too much to stand, and he jerks and squirms to try to get away from it. _Please let it be over fast_ , he thinks. Let Surgat finish and leave and let him pretend this whole thing was a really, really bad dream. 

It doesn't go fast enough. It keeps feeling better. Still _wrong_ and it still hurts but he keeps getting harder and if he had a hand free he'd probably be trying to jerk off with it. 

"Little whore," Surgat croons, and Drew hates him. "You take to this so well. You want my come, don't you?"

Drew nods sharply. "Just finish already," he says, and it sounds like he's about to cry, and he goes hot all over again with shame and anger.

Surgat laughs. "Has nobody ever taught you to beg, little boy? You'll learn soon enough." His fingers dig into Drew's flesh and he thrusts harder, faster, as Drew clenches his fists and tries not to think about what's happening.

When Surgat comes he groans in satisfaction, and his cock pulses like it's swelling. A terrible rush of heat floods into Drew's ass, making his guts cramp, and he cries out sharply. There are tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

Surgat keeps him overfull and squirming for an endless moment before pulling out in one quick motion. His dick slides free and then his come pours out after it, dripping down the crack of Drew's ass and over his balls, hot and slimy and gross.

"Almost enough," Surgat murmurs. He sticks his fingers in Drew's ass and presses right up against the too-sensitive spot, then wipes his other hand through the mess of his come and wraps it around Drew's aching dick.

It shouldn't feel good. Almost everything about this is awful. But it's the first time anyone has ever touched his dick and the demon's done things to his mind and Drew sobs, bucking into that grip. He can't make it stop. He can't make himself stop reacting. The jizz on his thighs hasn't even started to dry yet before he's coming, helpless, his body relieved and his mind disgusted and it feels so much like a defeat.

"There we are." Surgat lets go of Drew's dick and pats his thigh like he's a dog who just did a good trick. Then he raises his voice to do the buzz saw demon language thing again—and the pulsing red light in the closet swells, opening like a horror movie portal and oh fuck that's pretty much what it _is_. This thing steps out of it slowly, filling up Drew's room and making the space feel cramped. The smell makes Drew recoil, hot and meaty and sour, before he's even managed to make sense of what he's seeing: a body like a lion's with a misshapen human head and a segmented scorpion tail.

The thing asks Surgat a question and his answer makes it laugh, high and wild and nasty. It pads over to join Surgat behind Drew, making him feel gross and exposed, all the moreso when Surgat finally stops fingering him and leaves his asshole alone. He thinks he can feel the monster's breath on his ass for a minute, and tries to pull away, but the slime creature is still there and holding on more strongly than before.

When the monster places its front paws deliberately on either side of him, furry body looming over Drew's back, his heart sinks. "No," he says, "no, don't, I can't, please—"

The demons don't listen. The monster shoves its way up his ass, forcing him open even wider, and as it bottoms out his dick starts to stiffen again.

* * *

He loses track of time for a while. After the lion monster there's another one, and then after that more. His asshole is raw and burning and only gets relief when one of the demons decides it's more fun to rape his mouth than his ass. His face feels itchy where stuff has dried on it, his own tears and snot mixed with demon come.

And then he realizes at some point there's light outside the window, actual light, pale gray like the sun's just coming up. The way it looks when he's dragging himself out of bed for school. How long has this been going on? How long _can_ it go on?

The most recent demon to fuck him pulls out, slapping his ass casually as it goes. Drew expects Surgat to call another one out of the portal, waits for it numbly, but instead of calling out in the demon language he kneels beside Drew and coos, "Is something troubling you, summoner?"

That asshole. "Where are my parents?" It isn't what Drew means to say, not even close, but as he realizes they never came home the words just tumble out of his mouth. He wishes they were here to rescue him. His heart sinks just thinking it.

"Goodness, who knows? Maybe they're enjoying the hospitality of some of your new friends. Maybe they perished violently in a struggle with home invaders." Surgat smiles, bright pointed teeth and glittering orange eyes. "Maybe they're comfortably asleep in a hotel miles away, completely unaware of all the wonderful new experiences their dear boy is enjoying."

Drew turns his face away. He shouldn't have said anything. This shitbag isn't going to tell him anything good.

"Ah! Looks like you're ready for something new." Surgat grabs him by the jaw and turns his face back, and Drew squeezes his eyes shut. "It does no good to anybody if you get bored, does it?"

He kisses Drew again and it's just as nasty as the first time. Even knowing there are worse things he could shove down Drew's throat doesn't make it better. His grip is tight enough to hurt and there's nowhere for Drew to go anyway, but he still flinches at the momentary sharp sting that comes just before the heat hits him again. Is it a bigger dose this time? It feels like it. His head swims and his muscles go limp, his wilted dick standing stiff again. He whimpers. Whatever's on Surgat's mind, he wants none of it.

The slime starts to move. He'd almost forgotten about it—in the however-many-hours he's been stuck like this, all it's done is hold still and keep him in place. Now it's stretching and coiling its way up his legs, just a little bit chilly and wet-feeling, sliding and squeezing his skin as it moves. Surgat sits back to watch, and that's how Drew knows this is about to get really bad. Are they going to see how much of it can ooze up his ass now that all Surgat's demon friends have brutalized his asshole?

When it wraps a gooey tentacle around his cock he startles, looking up at Surgat in alarm. He's already learned that they aren't here to show _him_ a good time. But Surgat is just smiling, and it feels weirdly good, the rhythmic slow squeezing like it's exploring his dick. His hips twitch forward a little and he moans as the slime covers the head of his dick. That's what it would feel like to fuck somebody, isn't it? Tight and wet and—

It's squirming against his pisshole like it's still looking for something. Drew thinks of Youtube videos of octopuses messing with divers' gear and has to stifle a panicky laugh. It can't really be—fuck, it _is_ , probing at the hole like it's trying to get in there.

"Holy crap, no," he says, instinctively trying to pull back and not getting anywhere. "You can't—what the fuck, that doesn't go there."

Surgat throws back his head and laughs like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Oh, little boy, you have so much to learn."

The slime slides a tendril into Drew's dick and he wails, struggling helplessly. He's not sure if it hurts exactly but it feels _wrong_ , creepy and invasive. Nothing should touch there. It's not right. He's panting, desperate to get away, and still so hard that it's easy for the tendril to just push in deeper.

He doesn't realize Surgat has moved until he feels the hand on his hip, and then a second later the demon's dick is filling his ass again. The bastard's not even thrusting, just stuffing him full to feel him trying to escape. He tries to stop, to just calm down, but it's so weird, so gross, and reacting is pretty much instinctive. It feels like the slime tendril is squirming all the way down the length of his dick, and for a second he's just terrified, what if it just _keeps going_ , what if it oozes its way into his bladder and just fills up his guts and—

He almost cries with relief when it stops pushing deeper. It's already so weird and upsetting, inside him in an even creepier way than Surgat is, filling up his dick, which is just not something anyone should ever say, much less feel. He waits for it to pull out, to... thrust, probably, like he's in some gross tentacle porn, but it doesn't. Instead it just pulses, squirming in place, strange pressure— _growing_ pressure, like it's getting thicker inside his dick.

"Stop it," he says, trying again to pull away from the slime, only managing to get himself stuffed deeper with Surgat's cock. "Make it stop." His dick is starting to burn, uncomfortably stretched, and he fights down panic at the idea that it could tear him open. "Please, please make it stop." His voice cracks and he's never felt so helpless. "I know you're in charge here. I'll do anything you want, please."

"Anything! Well. What a generous offer." The too-familiar light flares up from the portal and another demon steps through, one that looks a lot like Surgat does. The two of them trade a few words and the new one laughs, swaggering closer as his sheath peels back and his cock emerges.

"Please," Drew says again. He thinks he still hates them more than he hates himself, but it's a close call.

"Hold this, dear," Surgat tells him. Fresh heat pours into his ass, and at first he thinks it's more come, but it keeps going, so much fluid his guts start to cramp with the bloated fullness, and he realizes Surgat is _pissing_ in him. And he's not even fighting it. "If you hold it and don't spill a drop before you've made my brother come, then you'll have earned a break. Eminently fair, wouldn't you say?"

"No," Drew retorts, because what the fuck is fair about that?

"That's too bad. It's the best deal you're getting." Surgat pulls out without any more warning than that, and Drew has to clench down in a hurry so the demon's piss doesn't spill out of him. It aches, the awful fullness and the burn of abused muscles trying to stay contracted. His face is hot with humiliation.

He's expecting the other demon—is it really Surgat's brother? Do they have those? Clearly they don't give a fuck about incest, if they do—to come over and shove his dick in Drew's face, but instead he's just watching with the same kind of nasty amusement Surgat has. For a few long seconds Drew wrestles with his pride, but his pride has kind of had the shit beat out of it already. "Well?" he says. "You gonna do it?"

"Crawl," the demon purrs at him, and then sings a grinding, metallic command to the slime monster, so it lets Drew's wrists and ankles go and retracts up to wrap itself around his middle instead. It's still buried in his dick and it's still too big and now they expect him to play along with the shit they're doing to him.

He does it. He gets down on the floor, clumsy and stiff after being held over the chair for hours, and he crawls across the scorched and stained carpet to get to the demon's cock. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes just from being so angry and helpless, and it's a constant struggle to keep his asshole clenched tight when his body desperately wants to be rid of the piss bloating his ass. He gets up on his knees in front of the bastard demon, right at eye level with that fat, ridged cock, and opens his mouth.

The demon still doesn't help him out. "Aren't you earning a reward, little boy? I think you'll have to work for it a bit harder than that."

"I hate you," Drew says.

"Good," the demon answers. "Show me what you've learned since you opened the door."

Drew squeezes his eyes shut for a second as he tries to get the trapped feeling under control, but he can't block out all the ways that his body is covered in and full of demon filth. But they said he could have a break if he did this. He doesn't trust that offer but it's not like he has better options, is it?

He leans in closer and opens his mouth wide so he can wrap his lips around the head of the demon's cock. The bastard still doesn't take over, so he has to actively work for it, bobbing his head, trying to make himself take more of it. The demons who've fucked his face before this would just ram their dicks down his throat, not stopping when they made him gag. He can't make himself do that, but that means he's barely taking any of the demon's dick in his mouth. How the fuck do girls in porn make this look so easy?

The pressure low in his gut shifts, a fresh wave of cramping discomfort, and the slime pulses in his dick like it wants to make sure nothing else keeps Drew's attention for too long. He whines, fighting the urge to curl in on himself as if that would protect him from any of it. 

The demon runs his claws through Drew's hair, gentle like he's petting a dog. "There you go, little whore. That's the stuff, keep that up."

Keep what up, feeling like shit? Drew tries to glare up at the demon but it probably doesn't have any real force to it. He has to get through this. He just has to do it. 

He screws his eyes shut and forces himself down on the demon's cock, pushes himself down until it hits the back of his throat and his gag reflex kicks in and tries to shove it back out again. His stomach rolls and he has to clench down hard to keep his ass from leaking. But the demon moans, so Drew makes himself do it again.

Surgat and the other demon talk to each other while he struggles with it. The language is so alien he can't even read tone of voice, but he's sure they're enjoying his misery. Reflexive tears spill over from the punishing his throat's taking, running down his cheeks through the mess already dried there. He just wants this to end.

"Ah, is that what you want?" asks the one he's blowing—can they hear his thoughts? "You should have said." The hand that's been petting Drew's hair snarls in it instead, holding tight, and the demon starts to thrust. 

There's _so much more_ to his cock than Drew managed to make himself take, and now the whole thing is driving down Drew's throat despite his body's useless reflexive struggles. It hurts, makes his throat feel raw and torn, and he's making desperate, muffled cries that he can't manage to silence. When it's all the way in, his face crushed against the slick dark scales of the demon's belly, he can barely breathe.

Surgat says something quick and sharp. The other one laughs, and the next time he yanks Drew down on the whole huge shaft of his dick he just holds him there. 

Drew can't breathe. There's pressure on his windpipe, crushing it closed as his throat is held open to his body's limits. He tries to pull off, braces both hands against the demon's hips and tries to push it away, and it's like shoving a brick wall. He can't scream, can't even beg for it to stop. His head swims.

The cock in his throat pulls back just far enough for him to get a desperate breath—and then slams in deep again, making his whole body convulse as he struggles to get away. Hot piss runs down his thighs, his control wrecked enough that some of it spilled. It's disgusting, and he can't even worry about that when his limbs are tingling and there are black spots swelling across his vision. He has to get away, has to make them _stop_.

But he's just getting weaker and the black spots merge into an overwhelming darkness that rises up to meet him, and Drew falls into it.

* * *

He's lying on his back. There are soft blankets under him but he can't move. His dick throbs, not in the way that means he wants to get off—he's hard again, but that doesn't mean anything anymore—but the way a sprained ankle does. He's afraid to open his eyes. He's pretty sure he's in hell.

A weight starts moving up his legs and he can't help it, he looks. "Oh, fuck," he says. He's in his bed, held down by countless threads of fine, sticky webbing, and crawling up his thighs is a spider the size of a cocker spaniel. "Oh fuck, oh fuck."

"Welcome back," Surgat says from behind him. Drew doesn't turn to look. He can't look away from the spider. Its legs move wrong. Its eyes seem too intelligent. It's nuzzling at his dick, the only part of him that's exposed. He struggles against the web but he can't go anywhere. "You gave us a lovely performance last time—let's see how you do here, hmm?"

When the spider shifts out of the way he can see why his dick feels so bad: what should be just a slit at the tip is a gaping hole now, wide open and exposing too-tender pink flesh inside. "No," he moans, but he knows better than to think it'll help.

Surgat talks to the spider and Drew is sure, somehow, that he's telling it to go ahead. It _answers_ , sitting its gross fat body down on Drew's stomach and sliding down to push its back end up against his raped-open dick. He shakes his head, no, no, and it happens anyway. The spider pushes something down into his dick, extending further than it should be able to, filling up the space that shouldn't be there. His breath comes too fast, too loud in his own ears.

The spider doesn't stop at the base of his dick the way the slime monster did. It pushes further, past something that hurts really sharply and intensely, and when his balls try to pull back instinctively the thing inside him is in the way. It's _inside his balls_. He starts to cry.

The spider shudders on top of him and the appendage buried in him swells, right at the tip of his cock, stretching it out even further. He sobs, trembling with the effort to get away, to make it stop, and the swelling starts to move—shifting down the shaft of his dick, pushing every sore inch further open as it passes. At the end it makes the sharp pain spike up again and then a weird, alien weight lands in his ballsack and he thinks he's going to be sick.

"Oh my god," he whispers. "You can't, that can't be—" He doesn't even want to say it.

"There's more than one way for us to increase our numbers here," Surgat says. The swelling starts again. "Why not allow you a chance to assist like this, too?"

The spider pushes another egg down through that tube and into Drew's sac. It chitters contentedly, like it's happy to have a helpless victim to stuff with eggs. The base of the tube swells again, another egg ready.

It's all so much. The edges of his mind feel like they're going numb. Hazy. It still hurts but maybe that can just be something that happens far away, like the way his hands feel cold. Drew closes his eyes. Maybe he can just be numb until it's over.

The mattress dips beside his head. "Ah, too fast after all." Surgat's voice, and Drew turns away from it, not willing to participate any more than he has to. So of course Surgat grabs him by the hair, pulling him back and forcing his head backward until he can't close his mouth all the way. "Swallow this, it'll keep you going."

Drew moans an incoherent protest as another wave of pain washes up from his balls. The spray of hot liquid hits him a second later, splashing his face and filling his mouth with the sharp, foul taste of piss. He coughs, struggling to get away, to spit it out, but Surgat's grip is too firm and the stream keeps coming and he's drenched in it, piss filling his mouth to overflowing and then running down his cheeks. He swallows some despite himself, the taste clinging to his tongue and making him gag. His face is wet with it. Everything reeks. The hazy numb feeling is gone.

He loses track of how many times the spider lays another egg in him. Everything is painful and disgusting and there's no way out. But eventually, after what feels like forever, it retracts the tube and slides off his stomach, leaving his aching dick gaping impossibly open and dripping.

"Very nice, little boy." Surgat holds his dick steady and pushes a finger into it, then a second one—and that burns but Drew can take it, so ruined already that they fit. Surgat feels around in his dick for a little bit like he's looking for something, and Drew tries to keep quiet about crying. "Now. Shall we try something else new and exciting, or should I just fuck you again? You haven't had a cock in your greedy little asshole for _hours_."

It takes a second before Drew can process that as an actual question waiting for an answer. He glances down at the demon's fingers buried in his dick and has to look away again, queasy. How much worse can _new and exciting_ get? He doesn't want to know. "Fuck me," he croaks.

"If you insist." Surgat pulls out of his dick and snaps his fingers. The webbing goes up in flames, burning to ash in a terrifying second and leaving Drew naked and exposed. "Show me that needy little hole, then."

Drew rolls over and pushes himself up on his hands and knees, spreading his legs to obey, and he wishes, more than anything, that someone would come to rescue him.

* * *

Nobody comes to rescue him. Nobody calls the house to find out why he doesn't show up to school on Monday. He keeps thinking he should be getting hungry, getting thirsty, when it's been days and all he's had to eat or drink is demon come—or demon piss, when one of them thinks he's too resigned to his torment—but he's not. Why isn't he starving? What if swallowing what they give him is keeping him alive? How long can they keep him like this?

His balls hurt constantly. They're swelling, getting heavier, the skin stretching tighter. The demons pretend there's nothing wrong with that but Drew's pretty sure they _want_ him to feel like shit all the time. That spider thing really fucked him up bad.

Then the miracle happens. He wakes up from shallow, fitful sleep and there aren't any demons manhandling him into position so they can get at one of his holes or already stuffing their dicks in him. There aren't any demons in the room. Even the slime thing, which will spend hours at a time just keeping his dick full, has gone somewhere else.

It feels almost unreal. His room is a wreck, almost everything just casually destroyed by the series of monsters that have paraded through here and raped him. He can't find any clothes that aren't in tatters. He finds half a sheet still in one piece with no serious holes in it, and that'll have to do. Something to cover him while he goes for help. While he goes for a doctor, fuck—his balls are swollen up to like three times normal size, the skin stretched tight and a nasty bruise purple. 

He wraps the sheet around himself and ties it in a clumsy knot, then pulls his window open. He knows the demons have taken over the house. If he leaves his room by the door, he might run into one. Going out the window is the best chance he has.

He boosts himself out and drops down to hang from the windowsill before he lets himself fall. It's still a rough landing but he made it, he's out, and the soreness in his ankle is nothing compared to what the demons have been doing to him. He tugs the sheet around himself a little tighter to try to keep himself covered, and runs for the house next door.

It's a nice fucking neighborhood, right. People don't hassle each other, everything's neat and orderly, it's all pristine and boring as shit. A week ago Drew hated it. Now it's all he wants. 

But he stumbles up the front walk to the house next door and realizes that the door is hanging open, tilted sideways like somebody tried to break it down. He takes a few careful steps backward and turns around.

The house across the street has all the ground-floor windows smashed in. Every single one of them. Next door to that somebody's Land Rover has burned down to the frame. What the fuck happened here? It looks like a Fallout game.

Somebody screams behind him, high and agonized, and Drew bolts. The sidewalk hurts his bare feet and he doesn't care, just running as fast as he can away from that sound. There has to be someplace safe. There has to.

He runs until he's out of breath, his side cramping up and the pain in his swollen balls flaring bright and sharp. Everything is still wrong, trees knocked down, things burned, a couple of times dark splashes on pale house siding that he's afraid are blood. The people who should be there are gone.

A shadow sweeps across the road and Drew scrambles back into the shadow of a tree. He's almost sure that was a demon overhead. If they're just out here flying around in public, in the daytime, without worrying about it, then—

White-hot, tearing pain between his legs drives the thought out of his head, drops him to his knees. He clenches his teeth around the scream that rises in his throat, clutching at the tree trunk for balance as the pain makes him dizzy.

When he feels wetness running down his leg, he looks down. It's _blood_. His too-stretched, swollen sac has split open, a raw red tear in the skin. He cups the injury with a shaking hand, trying to hold it closed, trying to breathe through the panic.

Something bites his hand. He yelps, yanking his hand back instinctively, and the thing that bit him flails, still holding on. It's spindly and multi-legged and covered in blood and he shakes his hand until it lets go and flies off. He looks down and there are more of them, crawling out of the wreckage of his balls. He's sucking in huge breaths and it feels like he can't get any air. There's so much blood. Everything is wrong. There's so much blood. The little demon larvae are hissing, stretching their limbs, climbing free. He can't stand it. He's so dizzy.

There's so much blood.

* * *

The next thing he knows it's dark and somebody's petting his hair. There's carpet under his cheek. It smells like home. Nothing hurts.

"My little whore," Surgat says. "What a risk you took today. Running off by yourself when you were due to deliver Chhrrtk'sk's brood! You could have come to such harm."

The memories come flooding back and Drew retches. He reaches down to touch, to reassure himself that no pain means he's okay, like it was a bad dream, or— 

There's nothing. At the base of his cock there's just flat bare skin and a too-smooth seam. "What the _fuck_ ," he says, panic hitting him all over again. He sits up, pulling away from the demon's touch. "What—they're just—"

Surgat grabs him by the throat like that first night and slams him back down on the floor. "You won't need them anyway." He leans in close, smiling so gently, so sweetly. "And if you learn to behave, we won't cut away everything else you don't need."

Terror makes Drew's blood run cold. As awful as this has been so far, he doesn't want to know how much worse they could make it. "I'm sorry," he whispers around Surgat's grip.

"Yes," Surgat answers, as if that was obvious. He lets go, though. "We'll be welcoming our lord to this world tonight. It's been so easy to open the portal far enough, thanks to the generous terms you agreed to. It's only right for you to meet him when he arrives, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Drew says hoarsely. It was his fault, wasn't it? And it'll get worse if he says no. "Yeah, I guess so."

Surgat rises to his feet and lifts Drew up easily. The sheet is gone too, Drew realizes. He's naked. Probably he'd better get used to it. "Good boy," Surgat croons. "Come with me."


End file.
